“And the daughter?”
“Acute congestion of the brain. She’s delirious.”
“Ah!”
Mr. Cornthwaite seemed satisfied now that he had the doctor’s assurance that the illness was genuine. He made no more inquiries, but he followed the medical man into the hall and to the front door. The doctor perceived that it was locked and bolted at the top and bottom.
“All right,” said he, “I’ll go through the other way.”
And he made his way to the kitchen, followed by Mr. Cornthwaite and Bram.
As he opened the door which led into the kitchen, the wind blew strongly in his face from the outer door, which was wide open. The rain was sweeping in, and the tablecloth was blown off into his face as he entered. At the same moment Joan, who had gone into the back kitchen to prepare something the doctor had ordered, made her appearance at the door between the two rooms.
“I shouldn’t leave this door open,” said the doctor as he crossed the room to shut it. “The wind blows through the whole house.”
Joan stared.
“Ah didn’t leave it open, sir,” said she. “Ah’ve only just coom through here, and it were shut then. Some one’s been and opened it.”